


Slippery As A...

by tridecaphilia



Category: The Maze Runner (Movies), The Maze Runner Series - All Media Types, The Maze Runner Series - James Dashner
Genre: Canon Compliant, M/M, Pre-Canon, Pre-The Maze Runner, mostly canon compliant anyway
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-04
Updated: 2016-01-27
Packaged: 2018-05-04 23:13:16
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 8,211
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5351960
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tridecaphilia/pseuds/tridecaphilia
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The starters for the Maze Trials are set to go up--but Subject A5 is missing.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I've had this sitting on my computer for weeks and decided to post it. Planning to update this every Friday.

“Subject A5 is missing.”

Ava Paige’s mouth was pressed into a tight line as she looked around the room.

“He left the subjects’ dormitory,” she clarified, “around midnight last night, to use the bathroom. He had an escort as protocol demands, but ten minutes later he hadn’t come out. Our guard looked in--no A5.”

“I hope the guard in question has been fired,” Brenda said.

“We have a bigger problem,” Ava said. “Group A’s starters go up today. Subject A5 is supposed to be among them.”

“We have to put it off,” Jorge said, shaking his head. “They need him.”

“We can’t put it off,” Ava said. “One way or another, the Box goes up today.” She surveyed the room, making eye contact with everyone there. “It had better be with Subject A5 on board.”

~

Left toward the kitchens. Keep low, under the observation windows. Left wall for the first fifty yards, wait until half past the minute, switch to the right wall, another fifty yards. Turn right, duck into the closet to hide from the guard passing by.

He sank down against the wall, pressing the heels of his hands to his eyes. He’d been awake for twenty-five hours already, aside from quick naps while he waited for midnight to roll around. He’d jerked awake every time, terrified he’d miss the brief half-hour window where there were no guards on the floor.

Footsteps announced that the guard was passing by. Suddenly it was too much, and he started shaking.

A short nap. Just a short one.

~

“He’s not on any of the security cameras,” Rachel reported, turning her chair to face the rest of the room. “Hasn’t been. Aris and I have kept watch.”

Chancellor Paige looked around the room, examining all the screens. “Yes, I can see that.” She turned on her heel. “Find him.”

~

He jolted awake, still shaking and not at all sure what time it was. He started to check the watch he’d stolen from Janson, but the man was stubbornly analog and the watch didn’t light up. He’d have to leave the closet to find out the time. Or, if he was particularly unlucky, he’d have slept long enough for the janitors to be coming around.

Actually, that might not be such a bad thing.

He pressed into the corner of the closet behind the door, and he waited. Eventually, someone would open the door, and he would be able to check his watch and hopefully escape undetected.

He fiddled with the watch, loosening it and tightening it. He wished he could’ve grabbed a better one, one that at least had a backlight, but he’d been lucky to have a shot at Janson’s and he’d needed to know the time.

Time passed. He counted his heartbeats to figure out how much. He was at seven thousand two hundred forty heartbeats when the door finally opened and the janitor came in.

Newt took a precious minute to check the time on his stolen watch--4:42:13, had to be afternoon, he’d gone to sleep around 10:00 in the morning--before pressing further back into the corner, sliding between a trash can and the wall, and holding his breath.

Why was the janitor here so early? He didn’t start cleaning until seven or later most nights. Why the change?

4:42. 4:43 now, he was counting the seconds. Going on 5:00.

His heart squeezed. They’d been supposed to go up to the Maze at noon. Were they there yet? Would they hold it until they found him? Were his friends already gone?

~

_Face it, he’s gone,_ Teresa sighed through their mental bond. _Probably got outside and died of exposure._

“He’s not dead,” Thomas said aloud, scanning the security feeds. “Stephen pinned all his hopes on this one control, he can’t have just died. There’s gotta be something we’re missing.”

Aris sighed. “I gotta agree with Teresa,” he said reluctantly. “How could he stay off the security feeds for so long if he was still alive?”

“Come on, guys,” Thomas said. “We’ve got his Swipe data up, it’s showing him alive and well. He’s here, we just gotta find him.”

But despite his own bravado, Thomas was starting to lose hope. It was possible that the Swipe was glitching, or that a different subject’s data was mixing in with A5’s. Computers made mistakes, after all, or the people programming them did.

It just didn’t make sense. A5 had, this time yesterday, been as focused and determined as anyone else. He’d been as mission-oriented as any of the scientists, had demanded specifics on everything and had pointed out problems. It had twisted Thomas’s heart to realize that as a control, they couldn’t use A5 on the outside with him and Rachel and Aris and Teresa. And then, without warning, he’d been announced missing on the very day the Trials were to commence.

He scanned the cameras, looking for anything they’d missed.

Teresa sighed, throwing a stylus onto her desk. “Well, we’ve got a month to find him,” she said. “They’re up in the Maze now, we can’t send him until then anyway.”

Thomas sighed. “You guys keep watching,” he said, standing up. “I’m going to stretch my legs.”

~

What had Minho thought when he woke up and Newt wasn’t in the next bunk? What had Nick thought? Nick who’d been like an older brother to Newt, had protected him from the bigger boys and the most invasive of the tests. Minho who’d shared secrets with Newt and helped sneak letters between him and his sister.

His sister. Sonya was one of the “starters” for Group B. She’d gone into the Maze.

He’d lost the count. He guessed that ten seconds had passed, added them to his previous number, and went back to counting.

Almost seven. The patrols had picked up for a few hours, probably looking for him. They were starting to slow down now. It had been almost half an hour since the last one. If the pattern held, he’d be able to leave as soon as the next patrol passed, and flee to the spaces that weren’t monitored by camera.

Footsteps. The guard. He held his breath and shrank into the corner of the closet while the man--it had to be a man, the footsteps were wrong for a woman--passed by. As soon as they faded from his earshot, he opened the closet door and bolted.

Behind him, someone yelled “Hey!”

~

Thomas couldn’t believe it. Any of it. First, that A5 had managed to slip their notice this long. Second, that he’d been hiding in the janitor’s closet (there had been cleanup after the starters went up; why hadn’t they seen him?). Third, that randomly going for a walk had led him straight to the missing subject.

And finally, that A5 was now running from him--and _winning._

A5 was easily the smallest boy out of all the Gladers. Taking weight into account, he was even smaller than the pudgy nine-year-old Chuck, and barely an inch taller. If Thomas hadn’t had access to his birth records, he wouldn’t have believed the boy was fourteen years old. Walking, his legs were so short he had to take two steps to Thomas’s one. Running, evidently, was a different matter. Running, he moved in leaps and bounds, short legs taking his tiny body several feet at a jump.

He needed to get in shape, he lamented. He should have been able to catch this kid. He’d never be a good Runner if he couldn’t catch one scrawny runaway subject.

Suddenly he turned a corner and A5 wasn’t there.

He stopped, panting, looking around. There was an intersection ahead. A5 could have gone in any direction. He jogged up and looked down each hallway, but each of them had a hallway branching off fifty feet down.

Thomas groaned. A5 could be anywhere. In the time it would take Thomas to check one hallway, the kid could make three more turns and vanish.

_Think,_ he told himself, frustrated. _Where could he go?_

A5 hadn’t been on camera. He’d managed to avoid them. Which way would he have to go to make sure he wouldn’t be caught?

The left-hand hallway had a camera that had started malfunctioning a week ago. A5 had avoided being caught on camera.

_Be serious,_ he told himself, looking down the hall. _How would he even know?_

He knew everything else well enough to avoid it. Security, cameras, even the janitors’ routines.

Taking a chance, Thomas ran down the left-hand hallway, turning right at the fork.

There. Ahead. The emergency stairs. No cameras in that stairwell. Thomas ran toward them, pushed the door open, glanced up--nothing--glanced down--a glimpse of a small figure in a subject’s uniform rounding a corner.

Thomas flew down the stairs, heedless of the danger, concerned only with getting there and stopping A5 from fleeing. Group A _needed_ him.

He kept going down the stairs, ignoring the landings. He knew now where A5 was going. He was going to the one place in WICKED headquarters where there were no cameras--the subbasement. It was used for storage, and no one went down there more than once a month.

After a long run down five flights of stairs, Thomas pushed open the door.

The lights were out, and for a second Thomas doubted himself. Could A5 have navigated the place in total darkness? Then he banished the thought. This was one of their best subjects, one of the cleverest ones they had. He’d find a way to navigate.

Thomas, though, wasn’t going to be able to find him in the dark. He found the light switch with his hands and flicked all five of them on. Overhead, fluorescents flickered and flared to life.

“A5!” he called. Then he changed it. “Newt!”

No answer.

He started off into the subbasement, scanning the floor for any prints. It was so dusty down here it should have been obvious which way the boy had gone, but Thomas couldn’t find any sign that someone had been here. “Newt!” he called again.

He was about to turn around and give up when by chance he looked up at one of the boxes beside him. There was a handprint there, clear in the dusty surface.

Thomas cursed himself. A5 had once climbed onto a light fixture three stories off the ground just so they’d let him see his sister. Of course he wouldn’t stay on the ground.

“Newt!” Thomas yelled again. “Come down here so we can talk about this!”

Silence.

Then, “There’s nothing to talk about! Go away!”


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter contains triggers for suicide. You've been warned.

Good news first. Good news, he knew where Newt was. Roughly. Sort of. Bad news, he didn’t have a radio, and if he called to his team in his mind A5 would have vanished by the time they got there. Bad news, A5 was a better climber than any of the guards, and they couldn’t risk firing a Launcher or gun at him if he went too high. They couldn’t risk hurting one of their precious controls.

Good news, though. He was talking.

“Newt!” Thomas yelled. “Just talk to me. Tell me why you’re doing this!”

Silence.

Thomas was about to turn around and give up when a voice asked from much nearer, “You serious?”

Thomas turned around and there he was: the bird-sized A5, perched on a tower of boxes that wouldn’t have held Thomas’s weight even if he’d been brave enough to climb up them.

“You want to kill me!” Newt yelled. “And you're asking why I don't want to die?”

“We don't want to kill you, Newt,” Thomas said through a sudden lump of terror in his throat. Newt could fall so easily, and if he did there was no chance he'd survive it and recover in time to go up into the Maze. “We need your participation. We need all our controls, especially you.”

Newt rose from his crouch on the boxes and without a word jumped. Thomas's heart leaped into his throat, but Newt landed safely--on one of the girders crisscrossing the subbasement. One false move and there'd be no more A5.

“You need us to die,” Newt said, glaring down at Thomas. “Stephen was _so_ hopeful that I'd be cured--but most of us won't even make it back here _to_ be cured. Most of us will die in the Maze, or during Phase Two. Won't we?”

Thomas blinked hard to dispel the sudden panicky fog over his eyes. “Newt,” he croaked. “Come down from there. You're scaring me.”

“ _I'm_ scaring _you?_ ” Newt yelled. “How do you think I've felt for the past seven years? All your talk of trials and controls and a cure and all of it resting on us probably _dying!_ ”

“You don't look too scared,” Thomas managed to say. He almost called for the others in his mind, but he was terrified that if they showed up Newt would jump.

“Because now I'm in control.” Newt straightened, standing upright on the narrow beam. “Now _I_ decide whether I live or die. Not as much fun from that end, is it?”

“No,” Thomas whispered. “Newt, we don’t want you to die.”

“But I probably will!” Newt shouted. “Isn’t that what you all have said? The deaths are worth it if you get a cure. The Grievers and the Changing and all the Trials are worth it no matter how many of us die, as long as you get your cure.”

Thomas swallowed. Looking at A5--Newt--perched so precariously, he _didn’t_ want the kid to die. But he knew the odds. The odds said at least half the subjects, at a conservative estimate, would die.

_Flip a coin,_ he thought insanely. _Heads, he lives. Tails, he dies._

Stupid to think that way. Stupid to think about A5 as _Newt_ at all. It was like naming a lab rat.

But looking up at the kid, so ready to end it just to avoid dying from Grievers or the Flare--he couldn't help it.

“Come down,” he croaked. “Please come down.”

~

“No.”

It was so easy from up here. Up here, there was nothing anyone could do to him. They couldn't send anyone up to bring him down, because he'd jump long before they got there. They couldn't shoot him, because he'd fall.

“I'm staying,” he said. “Out of the Trials. Out of the Maze. I'm staying here. And before you use your telepathy trick, I'll jump if anyone comes through that door.”

Thomas held up his hands. “I'm not calling anyone,” he promised. “I'll stay right down here and we'll talk. Okay? Just talk.”

Newt settled down, sitting cross-legged on a juncture between girders. “So talk,” he said. “Or leave. Personally, I'd prefer you leave.”

“I'm not leaving until you're safe,” Thomas said.

Newt smiled wryly. “Funny way of putting it,” he said. “Since you're the one throwing me to the wolves.”

“I know,” Thomas said. He glanced at the pile of boxes like he might try to climb them, then seemed to think better of it. “Look. I don't want you to go in there. I don't want you to die.” His voice cracked as he said it. “But they need you. Minho and Nick and the others. They need you.”

The words twisted Newt's heart. But that in turn only made him angry.

“They wouldn't need me if _you_ hadn't sent them in there!” he yelled. “If _you_ hadn't designed these stupid Trials knowing that they'd all die!”

“They won't all die, “ Thomas said, but his voice cracked. Newt smiled triumphantly. He was getting to him.

“They  _might_ not all die, don't you mean?” he retorted.

~

_ Just save one. _

The thought was so sudden and so absurd Thomas almost thought it had come from one of the others. But no, he knew what they all sounded like, and that was definitely his brain spitting out such a stupid idea.

What would happen if he did decide to “save” Newt? He didn't have any food down here. The only water was in the sprinklers. Newt would be dead in a week even if Thomas didn't come down with a team to extract him.

Which was what he _should_ do. Pacify Newt until he perched somewhere more stable, go back, watch his Swipe until he fell asleep, then come down and retrieve him. Unfortunately they couldn't just force him to come back; only the monitoring device had yet been activated. The rest would be switched on only when A5--when Newt--was sent up to the Maze.

_Just save this one,_ he thought again.

And why not? Why _shouldn't_ he save Newt? Newt was their first choice for a test subject when they had a cure. Wouldn't it be better if they kept him from dying until then?

_Don't get attached,_ he told himself. _Don't do it. He's a subject. He's going into the Maze to help the others. He has to. It's what he was trained for._

But looking at him, so determined and so incredibly vulnerable, Thomas couldn't make himself do it.

“Okay,” he said. “Here's what's gonna happen. You're gonna come down from there onto the crates. When I'm sure you're not gonna fall, I'm gonna leave. I won't report you. It would be a waste of time.” And a waste of a perfectly good control.

Thomas had spent a lot of time considering the subjects his friends. Aris had been the one to break him of that habit.

_You can't think of them like that, dude,_ he'd said. _You're just gonna get hurt._

But it was so hard to think like Aris and Teresa wanted him to, looking up at Newt now.

“Please come down,” he whispered. “Please. I won't turn you in. “

“You're lying,” Newt said.

“I'm not.” He shook his head. “Stephen--he trained you to know when people are lying, right? To know why people do what they do. Look at me and tell me why I'm here.”

~

It was true, of course. Through all the chess matches Newt had never won, Stephen had taught him to break people down into their patterns of movement, to see the internal rules they followed and how they would predict their moves.

“You're afraid,” he told Thomas, rising onto his feet again. “And you haven't used your telepathy. It hurts you to do it, I can always tell.”

Thomas laughed, a half-hysterical sound. “Yeah. Migraines like a mother.”

Newt bit his lip. “You haven't lied to me,” he said. “You don't mean to report me. But if Teresa pushes you, you'll tell. You'll tell her anything.”

Thomas shook his head, but Newt knew he was right. Thomas couldn't keep anything from Teresa, ever.

“Please,” Thomas said. “We were friends, weren't we?”

“We used to be,” Newt said. It was true. He remembered when they were younger, when Thomas would come play games with the subjects.

“Look at me,” Thomas urged him. “Am I being your old friend right now, or a scientist?”

Newt looked. He bit his lip. He looked away.

“Please come down,” Thomas urged him. “I'll tell them I thought I saw a Crank. I'll tell them I was wrong. I'll tell them it was a trick of my imagination. I'll tell them whatever it takes to keep you safe.”

“Why?”

“Because I don't want you to die either.”

He wanted to believe him. But then, that was half the problem.

“If anyone but you comes through that door…” he warned.

“I know. You'll jump.”

Thomas's voice cracked when he said it. That more than anything told Newt he was telling the truth.

He bit his lip again. Then, carefully, he walked along the girder until he was right beside the tower of crates he'd started on, and jumped.

He overshot. Just enough to make the tower wobble dangerously.

“Newt!” Thomas yelled from below him, and if Newt hadn't believed him before he did now. But he was fine. He jumped again, to the next crate over, and this time he stuck the landing. Thomas sighed in relief, so loud Newt could hear him from the top of the tower.

“Go away now,” he told Thomas.

Thomas nodded. “I will. And I won't tell anyone.”

“You better not.”

%MCEPASTEBIN%


	3. Chapter 3

Somehow, the others believed him when he said it was a Crank, even when he said it got away. Director Paige ordered patrols doubled until they were sure it was gone.

For a few seconds, Thomas could breathe.

Then he realized.  _ Newt. _

Newt didn’t know about the new patrols. And he’d have to come up from the subbasement. There was no bathroom down there, no food or water. Newt was infamous in headquarters for his small appetite, but he’d have to eat eventually. And when he did, he’d be calculating for half the patrols that were now roaming the hallways looking for the escaped half-Gone Crank.

He forced his panic not to show on his face, forced his steps to take him out of the meeting room and into the hall. Without meaning to he started heading for the stairs. He had to tell Newt, sooner rather than later. He needed to--

One of the new patrolmen rounded the corner, heading toward Thomas. Instantly Thomas spun on his heel and went the other way.

What was he thinking? He couldn’t go down again, not after he’d just said there was a Crank loose. He’d claimed the figure had dove into one of the air ducts, so they weren’t combing through the subbasement, but that would change in a hurry if Thomas was seen going down there too often. He had to hope that Newt would be able to avoid the increased patrols for a day or so, until Thomas could get there.

Suddenly Teresa was beside him, hooking a hand around his arm and dragging him down the hall.

“Hey!” he yelped. “Where are we going?”

“Observation,” she said shortly. “With all the chaos, none of us have checked on the subjects.”

Thomas relaxed. She didn’t suspect anything. She was just, as always, focused on doing her job.

_ Just last today, _ he begged Newt, as though the boy could hear him.  _ Just last today. I’ll come check on you tomorrow. _

On the screens, the boys and girls had grouped up. One of the Group A subjects--Sox, Thomas thought--was yelling at one of the smaller boys, one of the ones they’d trained as a medic.

“Sox is gonna get his lights punched out,” Teresa murmured. “Look at George.”

Thomas did. Teresa was right. And the thick-necked boy wasn’t the only one who looked ready to keep the peace by force. Minho was already approaching the fight, ready to break it up.

Nick got there first. He stepped between the two boys, put his hands on Sox’s chest, and shoved. Nick was lanky, but those long limbs were filled with wiry muscle, and Sox took a staggering step back.

“Put the volume on Group A,” Teresa ordered the other man in the room. He nodded and flipped the switch.

“--all we’ve got,” Nick was saying. “We don’t know what’s out there, or how we got here, so we’re going to  _ work together _ . Anyone has a problem with that, you can deal with me.”

“And me,” George added, stepping up beside Nick. Alby stepped up on the other side.

“The girls haven’t gotten into any fights,” Teresa told Thomas, a smug smile in her voice.

“It’s only been a day,” he said. “And we haven’t been here for most of it.”

It was easy to fall back into the routine. Do the job. Watch the Trials. Bicker with Teresa. Worry about Newt later.

_ Tonight, _ he decided. Tomorrow was too long. Newt would have to use the bathroom before then. He’d go right after lights-out.

~

He, Teresa, Aris, and Rachel were four of the only people allowed to roam after lights-out without a guard attached to their hip, and even then they were restricted. It had taken him all day of watching the cameras and patrols to figure out a way to get to the subbasement without getting caught.

Under one arm he had a bundle of fresh clothes with food and bottles of water tucked inside. If anyone asked him why he had it, he’d be screwed, but he didn’t intend to get stopped.

Newt hadn’t been caught, at least. Even with the increased patrols, either he’d made it to the bathroom unseen or he just hadn’t gone yet. It gave Thomas hope, which he tried to squash for his own sake. Hope was dangerous.

The odds of him being able to keep Newt safe from the Trials were slim. Even if he managed to keep him out for as long as possible, eventually Thomas would be sent into the Maze and Newt would be on his own. Then he’d be caught, eventually. And no matter how late it was in the Trials, he’d be sent in. They’d see him as too valuable to give up.

Still.

_ Just let me save this one. _

He managed to avoid the cameras--at least, he hoped he did--long enough that if anyone noticed he was gone it would take them a while to figure out where he went. And finally, he went down the stairs to the subbasement.

Newt was nowhere to be found.

His heart jumped into his throat. “Newt?” he called. “I brought you some stuff, are you here?”

No answer.

Maybe he was sleeping, Thomas told himself. The past two days had to have been seriously stressful for him, he’d need rest.

Thomas was just deciding to leave the clothes and food and go up to bed when a familiarly accented voice said, “I’m here.”

He turned to the left and found Newt, perched on a much lower stack of boxes than he’d been on the last time. Thomas took that as a good sign. It meant Newt didn’t feel the need to be one false step away from death to feel secure anymore.

“I brought you clothes,” he said. “And food, and water.”

Newt didn’t blink, didn’t thank him. “Did anyone see you come?”

Thomas hesitated. “I don’t think so,” he said. “I didn’t see anyone, and I avoided the cameras as much as I could.” He tried to smile. “It’s not as easy for someone as tall as me. Must’ve been easier for you.”

“Alby called me bird-sized,” Newt said almost wistfully, sitting down cross-legged on the stack of boxes. “How’s he doing up there? And Nick, and Minho?”

Thomas smiled. “Alby’s doing great. He’s helping Nick--Nick took lead earlier today. They’re starting to get organized. Minho’s going stir-crazy already, keeps looking at the walls. Him and Gally are alike that way--I saw them talking about going out and exploring earlier, but Nick won’t let anyone out of the safe zone until they can feed themselves.” He examined the boy carefully, then asked, “How are you doing?”

Newt shrugged. “Slept a few hours before you got here,” he said. “Woke up and the lights were out, almost panicked because I was thirty feet off the ground, but they turned back on when I got up.”

“Motion-activated,” Thomas said. “There’s some rodents down here that keep them on most of the time.”

Newt actually laughed at that. “They don’t bother me way up here,” he said. He nodded to the bundle in Thomas’s arms. “What’s that?”

Thomas had almost forgotten it. He laid it on the ground, unrolling the clothes. “Fresh clothes. Some food--stuff that won’t spoil if you take a week to eat it. And water.”

When he looked up, Newt was on the ground in front of him. Thomas blinked, looking up at the stack of boxes. “How’d you get down so fast?”

“I jumped,” Newt said shortly, taking a seat. “I’m not hungry yet.”

“Have you gone upstairs at all?” Thomas asked. “To take a leak or anything?”

Newt shook his head. “Was planning to do that in a few hours, when everyone’s asleep and the patrols drop off.”

Thomas’s heart skipped a beat.  _ It’s fine, _ he told himself.  _ That’s why you’re here. _ Aloud, he said, “I need to talk to you about that.”

Newt raised an eyebrow, picking up a bottle of water and cracking the seal. “What about it?”

Thomas took a breath. “The patrols have doubled. I said--I said I found a Crank, half-Gone, that ran away into the air ducts. Ava ordered the patrols increased.”

Newt considered that, taking a sip of water. “Are they still regular?” he asked. “Just twice as often?”

Thomas nodded mutely.

Newt shrugged. “Then I can make it,” he said. “Janitors are still on the same schedule, aren’t they?”

Another nod.

Newt grinned. “Then I’m solid. Don’t worry about me, Tommy. I know what I’m doing.”

_ Tommy. _ Newt hadn’t called him that in over a year, since Thomas had started distancing himself from the subjects. He’d always called him  _ Subject A2 _ or  _ Mr. Edison _ if he was feeling nasty. Always reminded Thomas that he was as much a part of the experiments as anyone else.

It felt good to be  _ Tommy _ again.


	4. Chapter 4

Thomas was actually acting like he wanted to help.

He’d visited every other day since Newt had escaped, and so far no one else had followed him. Newt had tried to tell him not to take such a big risk, not to make his visits so regular; but for whatever reason, he refused to go without seeing Newt for long. Newt got the sense from watching him that Thomas was worried Newt would get caught if he didn’t take care of him. He’d tried to explain that he wouldn’t get caught  _ unless _ Thomas helped him and got sloppy, but Thomas didn’t believe him.

Not that Newt had tried very hard. It was actually kind of nice having someone to talk to about things that weren’t classes and tests and Trials. He was just terrified of getting attached.

He was woken from yet another light nap by the door opening. He slept close to the door now, so that he’d know if anyone came to get him; and always slept lightly. He hadn’t been able to sleep more than a few hours at a time since he’d escaped.

Escaped. It was a funny word, since he was still in WICKED headquarters.

“Newt?”

He knew that voice. He poked his head over the edge of the towering pile of crates he was napping on. “Tommy?”

Thomas looked up, smiling at him. “Hey,” he said. “Brought you something hot to eat. You want to come down and share it with me?”

Newt checked his stolen watch. It was still daylight. “You always come at night,” he said.

Thomas shrugged. “I wanted to come during the day today.”

Newt watched him closely, then climbed down. “What happened?” he asked when he was safe on the ground.

Thomas swallowed. Newt had guessed right--something had gone wrong with the Trials. Something had happened that had scared Thomas.

“Let’s just eat,” he said at last, sitting down and opening the bag he’d brought down.

Newt settled cross-legged. He never had much of an appetite, but when Thomas opened the containers to reveal Thai tofu curry, his mouth watered. He’d been living on lukewarm turkey sandwiches for two weeks. He seized the container and a fork and started scooping rice and curry into his mouth.

Thomas watched him, so intent Newt could feel a flush creeping up the back of his neck. “What?”

Thomas shrugged. “I’ve never seen you eat like this before.”

“And you’ve seen me eat how many times?” he asked waspishly.

“I used to see you eat all the time,” Thomas said quietly.

_ Before you decided to save me, _ Newt thought.

Thomas had never used the word, but Newt knew what he wanted. He’d been trained to read people. Especially now that Thomas had come to see him as soon as something went wrong…

“Who was it?” he asked quietly. “Who died?”

Thomas jerked like he’d been slapped. “No one! No one died!”

“Then why are you here?” Newt asked, quite reasonably he thought.

Thomas looked down, picking at his rice. His curry contained chicken; Newt wondered how he’d convinced the cooks that he wanted tofu for himself. “Gally went into the Maze,” he muttered.

Newt swallowed hard. The curry suddenly didn’t smell so good. He wasn’t close to Gally, not the way he was to Nick and Alby and Minho; but Gally had been one of the ones to protect him from the bigger boys who resented tiny Newt being trained for a leadership role.

“He didn’t die,” he whispered, repeating what Thomas had said.

“No,” Thomas muttered, scooping up a bite of curry and then putting it back down. “No, he just got stung.”

Stung.

“Did they use the serum?” Newt whispered. He knew about that, of course he did. They’d all been taught what it did, so that some of the knowledge would stick when they went to the Maze. The monsters and their sting was an important Variable in the Trials, and WICKED didn’t want to lose more subjects than necessary.

“Yeah,” Thomas said. “I left when it started. Jeff and Boyle are freaking out, tied him down to the bed when he started thrashing.”

Newt set down the container and fork and put his hands to his ears, pulling his knees to his chest. He didn’t want to hear this. His training and abilities had given him the ability to visualize what Thomas was describing perfectly. Jeff would be freaking out, worried about the patient. Boyle would be trying to figure out what was happening, analytical mind going haywire as he tried to decipher the reaction and turn it into something that made sense.

“Newt.”

He shoved the voice away. He shoved away his awareness of the room, of Thomas, fell deep into his own mind where everything stopped mattering. God, he hoped he retained this ability when he went into the Maze. He’d die without it.

“ _ Newt. _ ”

There were hands on his shoulders, shaking him gently.

“Newt, come on, look at me.”

“N-no.” The voice that came out of his mouth was so small and desperate that he barely recognized it as his own.  _ No. Don’t make me deal with this. Don’t tell me what’s happened to my friends. _

“Newt…”

Suddenly there was a warm mouth pressed to his. Newt’s eyes flew open, focused on Thomas. He froze, startled--then after a minute of hesitation, he started kissing him back.

Thomas pulled back when Newt started responding. “I--” he began, and stopped. “I’m sorry. I didn’t--you were out of it, I didn’t know what else to do.”

Newt stared at him. Then three words came out of his mouth, words he hadn’t thought through and didn’t know the source of, words he believed in despite himself.

“Kiss me again.”

~

Thomas stumbled back to the upper levels some few hours later, mind still whirling. He’d left the food downstairs, not wanting to deal with the questions if someone saw him with it. Taking it in the first place had been a major risk, one he’d thought had paid off.

Until Teresa saw him.

“You,” she said, hooking a hand through his elbow and dragging him, “are coming with me.”

Thomas yelped, startled, and tried to pull away before he thought about what he was doing. “Where are we going?”

“To talk,” Teresa said shortly. She shoved open the door to her own room, then to the bathroom she shared with Rachel. When Thomas protested, she said shortly, “Trust me, you don’t want cameras around when we do this.”

Thomas’s eyes went wide and for a second he thought he’d have a panic attack. Then Teresa locked both bathroom doors with a  _ click _ and shoved him down to sit on the toilet.

“So.” She leaned back, folding her arms over her chest. “What do you know?”

He looked up at her, dazed still. Twenty minutes ago he’d been kissing Newt, holding him in his lap as the small boy straddled him. Ten minutes ago he’d been promising him not to let him get caught. His stomach twisted. He couldn’t have said that promise only to break it.

“Know about what?” he asked, voice hoarse.

“Don’t play that game with me.” Teresa shoved her finger into his face. “Ava and Janson might buy it, but I don’t. You’ve been sneaking out every other night for two weeks, going somewhere there are no cameras. Every other night since A5 got out--”

“Newt,” Thomas said. “His name is Newt.”

His heart sank as he watched her face twist in triumph.

“You called him A5 two weeks ago,” she said.

He stared at her, helpless, trapped. She was his sister, or the closest thing he had. She was his best friend.

But if she tried to take Newt from him…

In his mind, he called out to her.  _ Don’t ask me. Please. _

She stared at him. “You think I have that option?” she asked aloud. “My entire family died from the Flare, Tom. I  _ have _ to find a cure. So do you. You believed that two weeks ago. What’s changed?”

_ We don’t need Newt to find a cure, _ he pleaded with her. There was a lump in his throat.  _ We can make the Trials work with one less control. Please, Resa. _

The childhood nickname made her smile, just for a second but definitely there. She shook her head, but she did switch to telepathy.

_ All our controls are valuable, Tom. Newt more than most. _

_ He’s more valuable to us out here, _ Thomas argued.  _ He knows what the subjects will do… _

_ Gally’s stung, Tom. The medics don’t even know if he’ll make it through the serum. What would Newt do if he were in there right now? _

Helplessness welled up inside him, looping around his limbs like lead weights.  _ I don’t know. _

_ I do, _ she said.  _ He’d figure out what was happening. He’d question Gally. Then he’d go out into the Maze, fuck the consequences, and find out  _ exactly _ what happened. Do you know what they’re doing without him? _

He shook his head, numb.

_ They’re banning anyone from going into the Maze, on pain of being locked up in that concrete cell with no food for three days. They’re stripping away their only chance of finding a way out in favor of sheer survival. _

Thomas stared at her. He wanted to be able to think like her. The world would be simpler if he did. But still.

_ Please don’t make me do this. I promised him I’d keep him safe. _

“The safest place for him,” she said aloud, “is with friends who can protect him. If WICKED finds him, he might get seriously hurt before they catch him and send him up. If you turn him in…”

She let it hang in the air.

“Tom,” she whispered, “one day you’ll be in the Maze too. You won’t be able to protect him. But if he goes out there and makes it all the way, he’ll be cured. And we know from this that he’s a survivor. It’s the best chance he’s got.”

The worst part was, he believed her.


	5. Chapter 5

After talking with Teresa, Thomas didn’t go visit Newt for four days.

It killed him to wait. He knew Newt would be worried. Maybe he’d think Thomas regretted kissing him. He hoped the boy didn’t run out of food and water. But Teresa would be watching him, would follow him when he left again. Maybe she’d have surveillance put on him. He should wait at least a week. Ideally he’d wait until the next subject went up, until they had another month’s breathing room. Right now the search for Newt was almost frantic; Ava refused to send anyone else up if there was even the remotest chance of finding him in time.

Eventually, though, he broke. He couldn’t risk Newt starving without him there, and he missed holding him. So he waited until nightfall and snuck out.

He’d memorized the path by now that would let him avoid the cameras. He’d even fed a few of the cameras a loop to ensure that he wouldn’t be seen. No one could follow him when he went down the stairs to find Newt.

For the first time, Newt was on the ground when Thomas got there. When he saw him, he ran across the subbasement and leaped into Thomas’s arms. Thomas managed not to topple over, managed to spin him gently before kissing him as fiercely as he knew how.

“You’re on the ground,” he said. “Why are you on the ground?”

Newt shrugged, blushing. “I just got back from the toilet,” he muttered. “You haven’t been down in a few days. I was worried you couldn’t come back.”

“I couldn’t,” Thomas said. “I shouldn’t. But I was scared you’d starve.”

Newt gave him the cheekiest grin Thomas had ever seen. “I  _ did _ have a plan when I ran away, you know.”

“Right,” Thomas said with a roll of his eyes.

“I did!” Newt protested. “I would’ve been just fine!”

“Not once I followed you,” Thomas said. “Not once they doubled the patrols--which Ava probably would have done anyway, even if I hadn’t found you and said it was a Crank.”

He stared at Newt helplessly. It hit him then, how right Teresa was. Not that Newt belonged in the Maze, but how hopeless his survival was if he stayed hiding out in WICKED headquarters.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered. “I’m so sorry.”

Newt frowned. “For what?”

“For everything,” he said. “That you’re here. That--”

A commotion interrupted him. Newt’s head whipped around to look past him, and his eyes widened in terror. Thomas didn’t have to look.

“Newt,” he began, but the tiny blond wasn’t sticking around to listen. He’d already jumped high enough to grab hold of the top of a crate, and was climbing.

Thomas had never seen him climb before, only jump. It was terrifying to watch. Newt used the pads of his fingers and toes rather than his palms or feet. He half-climbed, half-jumped from one crate to the next, up and up, higher than anyone could follow. And all the while guards streamed into the room, holding Launchers.

Behind them came Ava.

“Well done, Thomas,” Ava said. “I knew you’d find him.”

Newt looked down from where he’d perched, mouth open in surprise. “You what?”

Thomas shook his head helplessly. “I didn’t,” he said, so quiet he wasn’t sure if Newt could actually hear him. “I didn’t, they followed me--I didn’t bring them here, I swear.”

Newt climbed to the top of the crates and sat down shakily, cross-legged, so high his head brushed against the girders that crossed the room. Thomas remembered all too well how easily he could jump onto those. How easily he could jump off.

“Mr. Newton,” Ava called. “You’ve had your fun. It’s time to come home now.”

“Home?” Newt asked. “You call this--you call  _ that _ home?”

He pointed down, toward the Maze just a few levels below them.

“That’s not home,” he said. “I don’t have a home anymore.”

“Mr. Newton,” Ava said calmly, “you volunteered for this.”

“I was five!” Newt yelled, sounding close to tears. He got to his feet and stepped to the very edge of the crate, toes curled around it. “I was five and you promised you could save my sister! Only now she’s in the Maze, she’s in Group B, so I can’t save her anymore!”

“Mr. Newton…” Ava began.

“Please don’t jump,” Thomas interrupted.

His voice cracked, but at least Newt was looking at him again.

“Please,” he begged. “I’ll--I didn’t mean for this to happen. I’ll keep you safe, somehow. You’ll make it through the Trials. We’ll save you. Just please. Please don’t jump.”

Silence.

Ava didn’t interrupt. The guards didn’t move. If they shot, Newt would fall a very long way, probably headfirst. If they said one thing wrong, Newt would take a swan dive on purpose. They were all counting on Thomas to talk him down--and Thomas was just praying Newt listened.

“You brought them here.”

All the way down here, Thomas couldn’t see the tears, but he could hear them. They broke his heart.

“I didn’t,” he said. “I swear I didn’t. And I’d give anything for them not to be here but--Newt, they know now. You can’t come down from there without being caught and I--” His voice broke, God,  _ he _ was going to cry now “--I couldn’t keep going if you jumped. Please come down. I swear I’ll get you through the Trials. Whatever it takes.”

Newt watched him. He lifted a thumbnail to his mouth.

Silence stretched between them.

Then, slowly, Newt climbed down.

~

“There he is,” Ava said proudly, resting a hand on Thomas’s shoulder. “In his rightful place.”

Thomas didn’t answer. He was choking on impotent rage, helpless to stop what had happened. On the screens, the boys circled the new arrival, inspecting him like wolves inspecting a sheep. Newt, smaller than any of them and twice as quick, watched them. No one said anything. Then Newt lifted a hand to his mouth and started chewing his thumbnail.

“Something wrong, stringbean?” Sox asked. “Want your mommy?”

Newt didn’t answer, just kept watching.

“Shut your hole, Sox,” Alby said calmly. “Kid, can you tell us your name?”

Newt hadn’t lowered his hand. Thomas remembered that gesture, had seen it so many times when he observed the subjects playing games. Newt always chewed his nail when he was thinking hard about something.

“Can you talk?’ Nick asked. “We won’t hurt you, we just want to know who you are.” He crouched in front of Newt, closer than any of the other boys had gotten. “Can you tell us how you got here?”

Newt lowered his hand, and Thomas noticed it was shaking. “My name’s Newt,” he said, voice very small. “I think it is, anyway. Where am I?”

Thomas didn’t take his eyes off the screen. Newt looked so small and fragile in the middle of so many boys, most of them much bigger than him. None of them knew how quick he was. None of them knew that if he wanted to he could climb to the top of the walls, could run along them as sure-footed as running across the smooth concrete floor. None of them knew how clever he was. None of them knew  _ him. _

_ I should be there. I should be the one in there, not him. _

“We call it the Glade,” Nick said gently. “Can you tell us anything about yourself?”

Newt looked him in the eye. “I can tell you I’m not a child,” he said flatly. “So you don’t have to treat me like one. Why can’t I remember anything?”

Nick smiled. “Wish I could tell you, Newt. None of us remember anything either. We all got here about a month ago. You’re the first person we’ve seen since.”

Newt frowned, lifting his thumbnail to his mouth again. Thomas could see the gears turning in his head, analyzing what Nick had said, examining it from every angle. He could see the moment Newt put it all aside to wait for new information.

“What’s your name?” he asked.

“My name’s Nick,” the leader said. “This is Alby, and George.” He pointed to his second-in-command and adviser. He kept up the introductions, going around the circle. Of all the boys, Minho was the only one who seemed interested in the newcomer as more than just a potential source of information.

Thomas stared at the Asian, willing him to suddenly be looped into the telepathic network.  _ Take care of him, _ he begged in his mind.  _ Keep him safe. _

Minho had been Newt’s best friend in WICKED. Nick had been his older brother. Alby had been his protector. It would have to be enough.

Two more years. Two years of watching and never touching and never talking--and then he wouldn’t know how important the boy he was talking to was.

He was going to throw up.

~

“Wait for the bloody Tour, Alby,” someone said in an accent Thomas could  _ almost _ identify. “Kid’s gonna have a bugging heart attack, nothing even been heard yet.”

The tall blond held out a hand to Thomas. “Name’s Newt, Greenie, and we’d all be right cheery if you’d forgive our klunk-for-brains new leader, here.”

Thomas met the new boy’s eyes, and something lurched in his chest, a maelstrom of emotion all rolled into a tight little ball just large enough to choke him. He identified longing and guilt and joy before suddenly the emotions vanished into the same hole that all his barely-there memories were swept into.

But he knew now.

He knew this boy. He was important. And Thomas knew something about himself now, too--he knew he was determined, and that he’d do whatever it took to find out what this boy had been to him before.

Because whoever he’d been before, he’d been in love.


End file.
